


Return

by 300lostdesert



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I am shipper trash, Max Comes Back, My First Fanfic, Violence, Violence in Later Chapters, nothing too gory though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6481141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/300lostdesert/pseuds/300lostdesert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anything could have happened to her...</p><p>........................................................</p><p>Max returns to the Citadel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is the first fanfic I've ever written! So please excuse any errors like tenses and things! I am still learning! I am basically max/furiosa shipper trash and this fic has literally all the tropes from just about every max/furiosa fic but I couldn't stop myself oops. Hope you enjoy!

Anything could have happened to her; his knife piercing her side may have only temporarily healed her…she could have developed an infection, there had been no way or no time to disinfect it.

The War Boys and War Pups back at the citadel could have rebelled against her… the rest of the War Party could have reached the Citadel and taken it back.

Hell, she even could have fallen off one of the rickety bridges that connected the towers. Could have, could have, could have…

Every time Max thinks about the could haves panic grips his chest and doesn’t let go until he has turned his car back towards the place he had just left. In the 256 days since he left the Citadel, Max had turned his car around and around too many times to count.

There was the wild, feral part of him that couldn’t face the thought of returning into a place with so many people, a place where he had been stripped of all that was his.

There was the unsure part of him that didn’t want to allow the idea of people counting on him to even come back in the first place.

But then there was the large part of Max that couldn’t imagine _not_ going back at all…never knowing for sure what happened after his departure. Not knowing what happened to _her._

As he sits in the drivers seat of the car he’d stolen, staring out into the Wastes, Max, for the first time, truly considers what it would be like if he did return. Would the Citadel be like a new Green Place? Would she be the new leader? What has become of the Wives? Too many questions.

But no. He couldn’t. He shakes his head, an attempt to get rid of both the ghosts that haunt him and these thoughts of hope. He turns his car away, and keeps on driving, he can almost imagine her eyes staring into the back of his skull, glaring at him. No. He can’t go back…

 

30 days later and again Max finds himself driving towards the Citadel. The ghosts are too loud. Screaming nonstop in his brain.

 

_MAX!_

_Where are you?_

_Come back!_

_Turn around!_

_Help us! Help me!_

_Why didn’t you stay?_

_How dare you Max! How dare you abandon us!_

_MAX!!!!_

He rubs the palms of his hands against his ears, but it does nothing to quiet them. He feels he has no alternative. At this moment his existence has boiled down to the never ending screaming and his attempts to stop it. Nothing is working. He has to at least try, and see if even getting closer to the Citadel will help.

 He sees it rise up on the horizon, unmistakeable in shape.

He drives as close as he dares, but still, it does not end.   
Huffing impatiently, he makes a decision. He is finally going back to the Citadel. 

 -------------------------

She isn’t told. Not a single person mentions it to her, and she is _pissed_. She hears it accidentally whilst lying under a car in the garage, fixing it up. A War Boy scout discussing it with Toast and Capable.

After all her efforts, after everything she’s given them, no one bothers to tell her that he came back…and that they turned him away.

All she wants to know is why. She had so many things to say to him, and she has been deprived of her chance.

She returns to her quarters to ponder in silence, to think about what she would do when she saw him…what she would say.

She’s angry. She’s upset. She doesn’t know how she feels anymore, her emotions a fuse that could light at any moment. Since returning to the Citadel, Furiosa has had to keep herself contained, she has had to ensure that she stayed calm and reliable. She has not yet been allowed to feel, to express. When the Wives, (Sisters now), turned to her for guidance, she obliged; she hadn’t wanted to be a leader but they’re pleading faces were too difficult to deny.   
But now, all this time later, she is still obliging, and its slowly tearing her to pieces. She had hoped that by now she could take a step back and do what she did best, fixing things and making things and _doing_ things. Sure when she held council meetings with the representatives from Gastown and the Bullet Farm she was _doing_ something but it wasn’t what she wanted. It was a different kind of _doing_. Furiosa needed to be moving, making, fixing, anything but sitting and talking. But for the sake of the Sisters, she had persevered.

But now, right now, the fact that they hadn’t told her that he’d been here, and been turned away, was eating her up from the insides. She decides to try and find Toast or Capable and confront them. She can’t think of a better option. Not when she’s so angry.

She finds them in the new council room, storms straight up to them and _yells_.   
  
“How dare you try and hide this from me! Do you not understand? I have things I need to say to the fool!”

Clearly, by the startled looks on their faces, they didn’t know that she knew.

Capable recovers first, trying to placate her, ‘Furiosa we’re so sorry but we thought it would be for the best! Please just calm down!’

Toast takes a different strategy and yells back, “The idiot _left_ us! Straight up left! Of course we’re going to turn him away, he has no place here anymore, he gave that up when he turned away and stole one of our cars!”

Furiosa is too angry to even respond. She turns away, makes her way to the top of the central tower and breathes heavy through her nose, feeling each breath with the still present ache in her side, like a reminder.

 

After she calms, slightly, she makes her way to the garage.

  -------------------------

 

He is dumbstruck. Never had he contemplated that they would say no. Maybe he was being selfish, but the thought had honestly never crossed his mind.

Now he truly has no purpose. At least before there was always a hint of an idea, that he could return when he needed, when he wanted. As he drives away, he wonders if Furiosa knows (he’s still desperately clinging to the hope that she is alive). He only saw Toast, and she was definitely angry, and she didn’t tell him anything he wanted to know. But he had hoped that Furiosa would be different. That she’d understand why he couldn’t stay. He doesn’t know what to do, so he does what he knows. He drives. He drives _fast_.

One second he’s speeding away, the screaming filling his ears again, and the next everyone he’s ever failed is standing in front of him, in his direct path. He swerves, apparently too violently, and flips his car. He drags himself out of the car and collapses into the sand. The last thing he remembers before he blacks out is Glory sitting near his head, just watching. The screams are silent now.

 

  -------------------------

 

She was gone within the hour. She knows she should have told someone, but she’s pretty sure they’ll be able to guess where she’s gone. 

She comes across a crash not too far out of the Citadel’s boundaries. She’s wary of Buzzards, but is pretty confident that they wouldn’t attack so close. 

When she sees the car, upside down, something flutters in her chest. She pulls up close and investigates.

She almost thinks it isn’t him at first. His hair and beard are longer. But once she looks into his face its immediate. She does a quick check for any bad injuries and decides he’s just passed out, nothing too major. By the looks of his skinny frame and tired face, she guesses he probably passed out from shock, exhaustion, dehydration and hunger, and not from some life-threatening wound.   
She pulls him out of the wreckage, making a mental note to send someone to salvage it, and drags him to her car, thinking about what she will say when he wakes up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Furiosa meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please let me know if you think any ratings need to be changed, or any tags added/removed! Thanks!

Max slowly pulls himself out of blackness, it feels like he is climbing out of a deep well. He can immediately tell he isn’t in his car, so he tries to keep the relaxed face of unconsciousness, as to try and gain some kind of advantage and learn of his whereabouts.

All he can gather is that he is in a moving car, in the passenger seat. He wishes he could find out more but there are no clues. He takes a chance, and opens his eyes. He’s headed for the Citadel, he looks over and sees her driving. His first thought is that he’s dead and so is she, but it all feels too real. He thinks maybe his hallucinations have gotten stronger. But then he sees her turn her head towards him, and he knows its real, and so far, she seems to be the opposite of how has imagined her; she looks healthy and strong.

  
Apparently though, nothing was how he imagined, because what happens next takes him completely by surprise.

 

She stops the car. She gets out and he follows her lead. He looks to her, a questioning grunt gets lodged somewhere in his throat when she looks back, not quite meeting his eyes. He sees her take a deep breath (a moment of relief for him and his fears) and then she lets loose…

\--------------------- 

She hadn’t even realised she was this angry. All those days, alone, wondering, must have affected her more than she’d imagined. She’s sure her face mirrors the expression she had when he’d been pointing a gun at Angharad, when they met, and fought. And now she fights again. She punches him square in the face. She screeches at him, shoves him, and all he does is stand there looking surprised, no attempt to defend himself.

All the built up tension from the past 286 days (who knew she’d been keeping count) is suddenly released. She only says one coherent word, the rest just a noise of screams and shouts and _rage_. The word is a question. _Why?_

She gets back in the car, taking deep breaths, he follows, and she continues driving. When they arrive she gets out without a word and stalks off, leaving him a sore, bewildered mess.

 ----------------------

 

Max sits in the car. Lost. He knew she’d likely be angry, but he hadn’t considered just how angry Furiosa could be. Like an idiot, he had forgotten the storm he’d seen inside her when they were in the Rig. But he had thought that the tiny nod when she looked at him from the platform meant that she had understood. Apparently not.

Soon the redheaded girl from the rig, Capable, comes and finds him, leads his confused body to an infirmary, and he is quickly discharged, (thankfully, that room was making remember some uncomfortable things) without any life-threatening injuries. She then takes him to a room with a cot, basin of clear water and some food. He doesn’t even say thank you. He is shocked at her kindness, he feels unworthy of it.

He eats his food, drinks some of the water and then washes his face and hands and sinks into the cot. He had hoped that finally coming back here would send away his ghosts, or at least, quiet them. For a time, it has, until he wakes up screaming and punching into nothing, like a raging beast. He lies awake for the rest of the night.

 

Capable finds him awake, early the next morning, fiddling with his knee brace, and tells him that Furiosa is busy. He can see the lie in her eyes, and knows what she means by busy, she flat out just doesn’t want to see him. Part of him wants to leave right then and there but Capable’s kind and expectant face stops him.

 

She sighs, “Well, if you want to stay, you would be a great help down in the garage. Buzzards attacked us on a patrol before you arrived, and the boys are still trying to fix everything.”

He lets her lead him to the garage, and he buries himself in his work, silent.

 

A week passes and all he does is work, eat, try to sleep, and think about Furiosa. All he wanted was a conversation; see and hear that she was ok. But he doesn’t know where to find her, and Capable, who he’d hoped would help, gives no hints, so he stops trying, thinking that she will find him when she wants to. He runs into Toast again, and makes a mental note to avoid her…apparently she’s still angry, he now has some scratches and a bruise to prove it. Later on he sees Dag with a baby cradled in her arms, both covered in dirt, she just calls him a schlanger and stalks off. He doesn’t see Cheedo, but hears people praising her time and efforts in the newly built infirmary.  
The Warboys stay out of his way, and he stays out of theirs. But on the 7th day he is taking a break when suddenly, some words said by a Warboy in a passing conversation nearby trigger an unpleasant memory in his head, one of hanging upside down being drained of life, trapped. He panics. Instantly feeling like an animal in a cage. He can’t breathe in this space. Gasping, he gets up and begins to walk as fast as his ruined legs can take him, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Nearly outside, he runs into Dag.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” she says, without any further clarification.

“Hm?” a disgruntled question, or maybe even a grunt of agreement, he isn’t so sure himself. Regardless, he continues to walk away.

She says nothing but “if you leave now she’ll never let you back in.” He stops in his tracks, attempts to take a deep breath and turns around. Dag is gone but her job is done. He walks back to the garage, trying to calm himself, but he still finds it too enclosed and it makes him feels crushed inside, so decides to try and make his make is way to the top of the tower. He gets lost a few times, becoming more and more panicked, but eventually he stumbles out of a door and he finds himself in some kind of garden. He sits in the dry, but somehow still alive, grass, breathing the clear air, and looks out over the Wastes.

 

He can’t stay, but knows at this point he has no other choice, not until she will talk to him at least. He is terrified at the thought. His breath starts coming out like shallow gasps, and he hunches over, knees to elbows.

 

This is how she finds him some time later, to him it feels like an eternity, but logic tells him it’s probably not even been half an hour.

He doesn’t hear her approach, only sees her boots in front of him. He startles, like the lizards he tries to grab before they notice he’s there. He feels the panic rising up in him again, clawing its way through his chest. Being startled or shocked was never his strong point.

“Hey,” she says softly, putting her human hand on the back of his downward facing head, “its ok, its only me.”

Slowly, very slowly, his breathing begins to relax and he feels his body unwind, as though it had been coiled up like a spring, his head absentmindedly pushes into her hand, enjoying the contact.

He gets up, knee popping in protest, and faces her. Words of apology get caught in his throat, forming a bubble.

“I didn’t mean,” he manages to get out, “to stay away for so long.”

As much as she had just calmed him, he could see she was still angry, these weren’t the right words. He gestures, almost like a spasm of his hands, trying to convey what he means. He knows what she wants him to say, but his mouth won’t form the words, he can’t make them come out.

Instead he almost gasps, “I can leave? Right now? If that’s what you want?” But as soon as the words are out into the air he can see that this isn’t what she wants. He feels so relived that finally words seem to tumble out of him,  
“I left you. I’m sorry. I had to go. I didn’t go because of you…uhh… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, _so_ sorry.” The apology is coming out of his mouth like a mantra, and he means it. He has felt the strong hands of guilt picking at the edges of his brain since he left. He knew he shouldn’t have gone, all the time he’d been away he _knew_.

She looks directly into his eyes, the first time since he’s returned, and all she does, (though it tells him everything he needs to know), is hold her hand out for his to join it. The memory of the word ‘together’ being spoken in the salt comes back to him, and he can see she’s remembering it too. He grasps her hand, and feels relief running through his body, like clear, clean water.

 --------------------------

 

Furiosa didn’t mean to touch him. It was as if her body had taken control, ignoring her mind that was taking pleasure in anger. But when she reached the top of the tower, and saw him there, looking small and terrified, she found she couldn’t stay mad. Her hand had involuntarily gone to his head, fingers in his hair. She felt him startle, then relax, and then push back. It was like suddenly the fight had gone out of her.

When he stood, and began trying to articulate some sort of apology, her anger became a distant memory. How could she stay mad at him after all he had done to help her? She looked into his eyes, and he manages to hold the gaze. This tells her more than his words. They grasp hands, and all she feels is weightless.


	3. Chapter 3

They talk. It feels like hours. She tells him of the progress they have made in the Citadel, where people are no longer battle fodder, breeding stock or wretched, they are themselves; they have names and talents, and interests. She tells him of the uncertain alliances forged with the Bullet Farm and Gastown, but how she thinks they will last, because she does not underestimate the power they hold here in the Citadel, with all the water. She tells him she did not always think this, wasn’t always so certain, when they were under siege and when the two groups plotted together to bring down the Citadel and take it for themselves.

She tells him how Corpus Colossus, one of the smartest of Joe’s sons actually came to help them before he died, telling them how to ensure the water would always be available, and how to deal with the leaders of Gastown and the Bullet Farm. He also showed them all the secret places in the Citadel, the treasures that Joe had hidden for himself. They found food stores, weapons, scrap and a number of other useful items. Without these stores she tells him they most definitely would have failed by now, starved or killed.

Lastly, she tells him about her healing and how long she was bedridden, attempting to fix herself as best he could by resting. How she wheezed for months, couldn’t even climb the stairs, how she still feels pain in her sides.

At this point Furiosa sees some deep emotion flash across his eyes. _Guilt_ , she realises.  
“No no no no, don’t think like that. I can see what you’re thinking. Without you I would be _dead_.” She insists, but she can tell he still feels like there could have been another way.

 ------------------------- 

He tells her nothing, because for the past almost 300 days, he has been alone with his ghosts in the Wasteland. Where he belongs. Only speaking to barter and scavenge and survive. Otherwise alone. This is the life he chooses to live, because he knows he doesn’t deserve anything better. He knows that as soon as he settles, as soon as people count on him, everything will crumble and turn to ash and it will be his fault. It’s always his fault.

As they talk he notices that she is subconsciously moving closer to him with each detail. When they finish their legs are pressed together as they sit. Max feels a strong internal conflict. He doesn’t want this to happen because he knows how it will end. Her trust in him will be her downfall. But he also feels so calm and comfortable pressed up against her. Relaxed.

He doesn’t move away.

 ------------------------- 

That night she takes him to the communal eating area. Furiosa knows he will struggle; the Warboys still painting themselves white surely brings up unpleasant memories for him. But she also knows that he probably won’t be in the Citadel long anyway, and that he will make it through if he has to. The two of them sit down at the end of a long table shared with the Sisters and some of the past Milking Mothers. Cheedo seems ecstatic to finally see Max, and Toast seems to have let go of some of her anger, following Furiosa’s lead.

As they eat their meal she can see him slowly becoming more and more twitchy. She quickly bids everyone goodnight and takes Max back to his room. When they arrive she notices him limping more than usual, and she can hear the squeaking of his brace.

“I can fix that if you like?” she asks him gently. He looks surprised, as though he expected her to lash out again, that he doesn’t expect her to be kind.

He manages to force out some words in response, “uh...mm...yes that would be good…if its no trouble?”

She sighs, _of course not_ , she thinks. She’s beginning to feel guilty about how she acted before. She wants him to trust her enough that he will come back, and now she is thinking she might have ruined her chances by treating badly. But she hadn’t realised exactly how angry she was. She hadn’t even realised she felt _hurt_ , she’d felt like she had finally met someone who understood. Someone who would have her back. Someone to find some redemption with. Someone reliable. She pushes the thoughts out of her mind.

Furiosa leads him back to her room, she knows she has enough supplies there to fix his brace because she tends to her arm in her room, and that he wouldn’t be comfortable being around all those Warboys in the workshop downstairs.

 --------------------------------

At first he’s shocked by her words; didn’t think he was forgiven enough for her to even contemplate helping him. Then, he’s even more shocked she would take him to her room. He knows she’s not bringing him here for anything other than to fix his brace, but some part of him cannot grasp why she would trust him enough to show him her private space. He understands the importance of having some privacy, especially for someone like Furiosa in a place like this. He feels honoured to even have seen it, let alone be invited in.

He takes off his brace, hands it to her and limps over to sit on her bed, hoping that it’s all right. She doesn’t protest, so he sags into the bed a bit more, just enjoying the feeling of something other than the sandy ground beneath him. For the first time in a long time he feels somewhat calm, and the cacophony inside his head has become quieter.

 -------------------------------

 

Before she knows it he’s asleep. She turns to ask him a question about the mechanics of his brace and is surprised to see he’s fallen asleep sitting up. She holds back a smile and goes to wake him, so that he can move into a more comfortable position; sleeping upright is never fun when you wake up with an aching body.

Furiosa remembers that day in the rig, when he woke up fighting. She understands. She needs to be careful.

“Max?” she softly touches his shoulder, leaning so that she is out of his reach in case he becomes violent. Thankfully he just startles, looking embarrassed and confused.

“Its okay,” She soothes, her memory racing back to the rig again, “just thought it would be better if you lay down.”

He gives a sharp nod and does just that, and is asleep within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the quick changes in POV, I just really liked writing both of them!


	4. Chapter 4

Max, for once, wakes up gently and slowly. He can’t remember the last time he woke up like this; usually he is forced awake by his nightmares, or by a threat out in the Wasteland. He actually, for the first time in a long time, feels something that resembles calm…relaxed. That is until he realises he isn’t alone. He can feel someone else’s back pressed against his, their breath moving in the smooth pattern of sleep.

There’s a moment of panic until he realises that it must be Furiosa. He is, of course, still in her room, in her bed. Where else would she sleep?

He feels a pang of guilt for taking up her space, but he knows she would have woken him if she wanted too. This realisation brings up a whole new set of emotions. Shock, and surprisingly, happiness. Of course, fear; that she now apparently trusts him enough to share a bed. He moves quietly, trying not to wake her as he scoots out of the bed. Apparently he fails; he feels her roll over and snuggle closer and hears her murmur in her sleep; “no, stay.” He freezes. Moves back into the warm spot he’s just left. She mumbles a happy sound. He tries not to overthink this development, and in no time at all he’s asleep again.

 

Some time later, Max wakes to the sound of a gasp, ringing out in the silence of the room. He turns, and sees Furiosa scratching at her neck, her hand moving rapidly, eyes rolled back into her head. Max has seen this before in himself, and knows that attempting to wake someone in the midst of a nightmare can be dangerous. But she is scoring deep red lines into her skin, and he almost can’t bear to see her in pain. He grabs her hand and she lashes out at him, so now they both have scratches.

“Hey! Hey. Furiosa. It’s me. Its ok.” He soothes. Max can see her slowly waking, her grip on his arm slackening.

 

When she wakes he moves away, giving her space. After her breathing has calmed down he lies down again and faces her. She looks defeated, exhausted.

 

“I dream I’m choking.” She explains, taking a deep breath. “That no matter what I do I can’t get air into my lungs. Hands grab me, close tight on my windpipe. When I pull them off chains replace them. Getting tighter and tighter…I’m sorry for scratching you.”

Max feels a pain in his chest; she doesn’t need to apologise. He understands.

He looks at her face in the dark, so close to his. He doesn’t know how to comfort her, and before he knows it words are spilling out of his mouth.

“My dreams are filled with every person I’ve ever failed. They shout at me and pull at me and I see their deaths over and over again.” This confession is pulled from a deep place within him. Right out of the middle of his chest. He’s never told anyone what his nightmares are, but in this moment he feels like he could tell her anything, feels like he can, for once, form full sentences. The next thing he says bursts out of him, coming out too fast for him to stop.

“I dream that I couldn’t save you. That I killed you when we first met, instead of sending the shots into the sand. I dream that I put the knife in the wrong place in your side, killing you faster. Sometimes I dream that my blood is poison, and that you die after I leave but I never find out.” He gasps. He is shocked to realise his face is wet. He is crying. Furiosa brings her hand up to his face and wipes the tears away.

“I’m here. I’m breathing. You haven’t failed me” But those last words makes him panic more; what she doesn’t realise is that he hasn’t failed her _yet_. He will. It is unavoidable. He can tell he is hyperventilating but he can’t stop. He feels her soothing hand moving over his head but it isn’t helping. Nothing will ever help. He will always fail and he will be stuck like this forever. Then she pushes her head against his, their foreheads touching. She feels like a grounding force; bringing him back to Earth, back to his body. Some time later his breathing actually slows, he actually feels air in his lungs.

“Is that why you came back? To see if I was ok?”

He just nods.

 

\-----------------------  


He stays for 58 days. They work, they eat and they sleep, or at least try to.

When they work together in the garage, on the new rig, or repairing pursuit vehicles, they are the perfect team. Each knowing exactly what the other needs help with. When they eat Max shovels his food down like he thinks it’s the last meal he’ll ever get, and Furiosa has to tell him to slow down.

 

After their dinner in the mess hall, they go back to Furiosa’s quarters, Max’s room long forgotten. After that first night he kept appearing at her door in the middle of the night, looking defeated and tired. Eventually he just accompanied her straight there. They’re uncomfortably aware of the rumours.

 

Most nights they calm each other when they wake up gasping or ready to fight. At the beginning of this pattern, however, they don’t actually sleep that well. Max finds out Furiosa kicks in her sleep, and she finds out he’s restless, and can barely seem to stay in the same place for more than five minutes. For the first week or so, Max is gone when Furiosa wakes up, having left sometime in the night. This results in her feeling anxious each morning until she finds him working in the garages, or eating some breakfast, or inspecting the gardens.

 

But more and more nights they find themselves sleeping soundly, and Max feels he can stay the entire night. He is comforted by the calm pattern of Furiosa’s breath against his back. Furiosa feels safe with someone there who she knows would help her in a fight, someone she trusts.

 

One morning, after a particularly rough night of gasping awake, ready for action, Max is gone, and Furiosa spends half the morning looking for him. She knows he’s truly gone when she returns back to her room and notices the small amount of food and water she keeps there is gone. Furiosa knew this was coming but it hurt her more than she thought it would. That night she doesn’t sleep, not one wink. Feels unsafe and wary of every noise. She hopes he isn’t away for long, and that he comes back at all.

 --------------------- 

He’d dreamt that the Citadel was falling and it was all his fault. He had killed Furiosa, and the Sisters were already dead, including Dag’s baby.

He didn’t know what was going on. When he was at the Citadel with Furiosa, the screeching in his head quietened, and was sometimes silent. Whenever he woke up she was always there to comfort him, calm him, and he felt almost peaceful. Yet something in his dreams that night made the screaming become louder and louder until he couldn’t even hear himself think.

 

His mind had raced back to the day he stood and watched them leave over the salts. Glory raising her hand to his head, and his reflexes flinging up his own in protection. Then having an actual arrow shot at his head the same way. He shuddered to think about if his dreams of what happened to Citadel that night could actually happen. He had to go, while it was still good. While she was still good.

 

He felt guilty taking her supplies but he’d been in such a daze he didn’t think about it until he was already far away.


	5. Chapter 5

He is gone another 93 days.

Again, Furiosa doesn’t realise she had been counting. He comes back under the pretence of trade and information he has gathered on his travels, but when he arrives his first action is to look Furiosa up and down, as if inspecting her for injuries, and that’s when she knows why he is really back.

 

This time, she thought she’d be angry. She had almost hoped she would be angry because that was easier than being upset. But mostly, Furiosa felt relief. Her nightmares had evolved, developed. Now, she dreams she is choking, and that to free herself she has to shoot blindly until the person holding her is dead. But when she stands and looks at her attacker, she realises she has shot Max, not the person harming her, and as she watches his body rots and decays before her eyes.

When he steps out of his car, the relief that her nightmares aren’t real life floods her body, and she feels as though a slight breeze could push her over. She beckons him Max over, and they push their foreheads together. While this was initially a Vuvalini gesture, its significance is completely different between her and Max. For Furiosa, at least, it is a calming gesture. Soothing. Grounding in reality.

She sleeps better that night than she has since he left.

 

 ---------------------------

Time becomes a blur when Max is at the Citadel. It almost keeps him sane. He falls into a routine so predictable, he can’t distinguish some days from others. That is, until there are days where this precious routine gets shaken up.

 

The first time it happens is when Furiosa and some of her crew are attacked on a patrol. Max kicks himself when he hears the news, he knew he should have gone with them, but working on the new rig seemed like such a better option. He is told the news by a panting Capable, who looks like she had just run through the entire Citadel to find him. He races down to the infirmary to see them patching up a very uncooperative Furiosa.

 

Sammy, the Vuvalini head of the infirmary whispers in his ear, “Just a bullet graze, bad enough to need a bandage though. She wouldn’t have even told us but we caught her limping.” He just nods, but he feels so relieved he could fall over. He had expected something as bad as her lungs again. He’s about to leave, knowing that she wouldn’t want him to see her like this when she catches his eye, and he knows its hurting her more than she is letting on. He goes over to her and they push their heads together, and he feels her gritting her teeth and breathing through the pain. This is a day he remembers. This day isn’t a blur.

 

The next day that isn’t a blur happens not long after. The Citadel was celebrating their recent harvest. It had been so successful that they had enough to trade, feed themselves well, and also feed the once Wretched (now Citizens). There had even been enough to make a potato alcohol. People got a small serving alongside their dinner at the celebration.

Max hadn’t had alcohol since Before, and he guesses that is why it impacted him so strongly. He just wasn’t used to it. He feels heavy and relaxed when he heads to bed, in Furiosa’s room of course. He collapses into the bed and watches, as Furiosa slowly, clumsily takes off her prosthetic. She must have had her alcohol serving too, he thinks. She lazily slides in next to him, and they curl up around each other like normal; facing each other, his head above hers, and her face below, just a tiny bit away from his neck, legs curled up. But this night, whether it was the alcohol or just the fact that they had grown so comfortable with each other, Furiosa takes her hand and begins to trace designs all over his arm and back and head, wherever she can reach. At first he freezes. But then he reminds himself _this is Furiosa_ and its ok. He relaxes into her touch, and he drifts off to sleep, calm and contented, with the feeling of her fingers in his hair.

 

 ----------------------------

His skin was an oxymoron when she touched it; some parts rough and calloused but others soft and smooth. Furiosa doesn’t know what came over her, but in that moment all she wanted to do was see how his skin felt under her fingers. Some part of her mind, buried deep away in the calmness of the room, knew she was crossing some boundary, but she couldn’t find the energy to care.

 

The next day they both act like nothing happened, the only difference being that night, Max casually drapes an arm over her waist as he’s falling asleep. He stills, assuming she will tell him if this isn’t ok, but all she does is murmur happily and snuggle closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! The next one will be longer and better to make up for it!


	6. Chapter 6

Max feels conflicted. He’s calm now within the Citadel, but each and every day he fights with himself. There is a part of him that itches to get away. Back into the open spaces of the Wasteland. Back to being alone. But now Max can’t bear to think how much he would hurt Furiosa if he did. He also can’t bear to think about the fact that she seems to trust him, need him here.

 

Max likes to think that sleeping next to her each night has helped put an end to his nightmares but if anything he is just becoming better at hiding them, not jolting awake too violently, or gasping too loudly. His nightmares now are images of the Citadel burning or crumbling, of him accidentally ruining the whole thing. In his nightmares, after he somehow causes the death of Furiosa and the Sisters, he is again strung up as a bloodbag, with a muzzle on his face.

 

He knows that Furiosa’s nightmares have become less regular since he’s been back, and this idea shatters him inside. He can’t be the person she turns to; he knows he will fail her. But he can’t deny there is a part of him that does want this. He wants Furiosa to seek him out for comfort and help. That selfish part of him that is revelling in this human contact… this relationship. He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to leave but he wants to stay. He wants closeness and distance, all at once.

 

One night Max’s decision is made for him. Again, his nightmares are the cause. He dreams he is a blood bag again; strung upside down and muzzled like normal, but for some reason his whole body is wrapped in chains. Too tight. He can’t breathe. Chest can’t expand, can’t open his mouth. Then a skeletal looking Warboy comes by and begins to prod and poke him. Then suddenly this boy has a knife and is scoring deep lines along his arms, his stomach, his back. Max thrashes wildly, trying to get out of reach, trying to stop this pain. He hears a sharp gasp and comes back to himself, waking up suddenly. Dread runs through his body when he realises what he’s doing. His body is on top of Furiosa’s, pinning her down, and he has one hand around her throat, their faces are close. As soon as he realises he’s off, pushing himself from the bed and moving to the other side of the room. He sinks down into a crouch, head in his hands. He _knew_ this would happen. He should have left long ago, before she trusted him.

 

He looks up at her slowly, expecting her to be angry. Instead she just looks sad, almost pitying.

“You told me they had stopped,” is all she says.

He can’t bring himself to tell her. He can’t explain. All he can do is shake his head.

She gets up and he cringes away, still half in the nightmare, but all she does is motion for him to follow her. Max slowly stands, knee popping in protest and follows Furiosa out the door. She leads him through the Citadel, up and up until Max’s knee begins to ache even more. He soon realises she’s taking him to the open space on top of the towers. He doesn’t understand why until they arrive, and then he realises that he feels like he can finally breathe again. Max doesn’t wait for Furiosa but makes his way to the biggest patch of grass he can find, and immediately he lies down, and takes in the sky swimming with stars and tries to calm his body that is now brimming with adrenaline and energy. Furiosa joins him silently.

He feels almost at peace when suddenly the memory of Furiosa telling him of her nightmares comes back. Guilt and shame run through him when we realises she has a fear of being choked, and that’s exactly what he had just done to her. He sits up suddenly, and the words almost erupt out of him;

“Oh god, Furiosa, I am _so_ sorry. I…I just…I don’t know. I don’t know what is happening.” He is practically gasping now, not getting enough air into his lungs, “So sorry. I should never…I should never have stayed. I should never have done this. Its ok…ah…I’ll leave in the morning. I can go.”

 

She takes a long time to reply, looking down into her hands, and Max gets more and more nervous with each passing second.

 

He is startled when she looks up at him and he sees that her face is wet. Of course; now he’s caused her more pain. He places his hand on the side of her face, brushing away her tears.

 

“Oh Max,” She says in an exasperated tone, leaning into his touch, “I don’t want you to go. But if you have to I guess I’ll accept it.”

 

Honestly Max is so surprised he can’t begin to form a response. Is she forgiving him? He had thought he ruined it all. He was expecting to ruin it all. He was expecting her to be angry and force him out, he who had caused her so much pain. This is beyond anything he could have hoped, because now, faced with the idea that he might leave to never come back, Max knows this is where he should be. Where he _wants_ to be. It is in this moment that Max realises that it is not the Citadel, its _her_. He could be anywhere in the Wasteland, but if Furiosa was by his side, he’d be happy…well happier at least. He never believed he could trust someone so intensely, that someone would be there to hand him a grounding touch, a much needed gun, or a missing wrench.

 

He feels like all the air has blown out of his lungs, but not necessarily in a bad way, more like relief, letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

 

Max now notices that he still has a hand on Furiosa’s face, and something inside him changes…or rather, becomes known, and all he wants to do is bring his other hand up, and pull her face towards him and kiss her. But no, he thinks, because he knows what she’s been through, he knows she probably doesn’t feel the same. He quickly drops his hand and looks down. He can feel his face getting red with embarrassment; he can tell his thoughts were clear on his face.

 

But then the most surprising thing of all happens; Furiosa _laughs_ , a quick, little chuckle. All Max can do is stare.

 

He can feel his face getting warmer and redder by the second, utterly perplexed by her reaction. He hadn’t expected _this._ He must look as bewildered as he feels because she’s quick to explain herself:

 

“I’ve never seen you look so embarrassed before. I’m sorry I just couldn’t help it. It made you look so…well…innocent, I guess.”

 

He is still confused, and can only watch in incomprehension as she picks up his hand and places it back on her face, pressing a quick kiss on his palm first. She looks him straight in the eye.

 

“Max…I think I can tell what you want, and I’m telling you that _I want it too_.”

 

She looks so…sure…when she says this that he doesn’t stop himself this time, he can’t help but bring her face towards his and kiss her. Their lips meet softly at first, modestly, just a little bit of pressure, and then soon they’re meeting each other almost hungrily. Furiosa opens her mouth against his and Max nearly groans in happiness. He runs his hands over her head, down her neck, where he feels her brand. He moves on and starts drawing lazy circles on her back, she has her fingers in his hair.

They go on like this for what seems like hours, hot and fast passion turning into slow meandering relaxation.

When they finally pull away from each other, it is because dawn is fast approaching, and they can hear some of the gardeners arriving to start their work. Max knows that Furiosa has rounds to do at this time of day, so he makes his own way back to the room, his mind reeling.

He can’t comprehend what just happened. She apparently trusts him enough to let him hold her like that, _touch her_ like that. He hasn’t had anything like this since…well…Jessie…since Before. He feels like he doesn’t deserve this. What has he possibly done to deserve this? At the same time Max doesn’t want to ruin this. He knows he probably will but at this moment it’s so perfect and he doesn’t want his tendency to overthink things get in the way. So he gets into bed, and tries to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Furiosa thinks about what happened in the gardens the night before.

Kissing Max felt like nothing else. It felt soft and hard and rushed and slow and lazy and exciting. Furiosa honestly thinks she has never felt so relaxed and calm in her entire life, not since being stolen from the Green Place anyway.

She hated to pull away, but she knew what would happen if they were found out; the Sisters would hear about it and they would never stop pestering her. She loved them, but sometimes they truly did act their age, she knew they would spread rumours and gossip.

 

Leaving Max that morning had almost torn her up inside. She wanted nothing more than to spend the day with him, alone together, finding comfort in each other’s touch. Furiosa felt elated that there was someone in her life who she could trust as much as this. Allowing herself to get this close to someone, let alone a man, is something she never though she could do again. She’s thrilled.

 

As she goes about her day she keeps finding herself getting distracted, thinking about how his lips had felt against hers, or how she had shivered in pleasure when he’d run one of his hands over her shoulders and back. She has to pull herself away from these thoughts and focus on the tasks at hand, but she finds it more and more difficult as the day goes on.

 

She doesn’t know what to expect when they go to bed that night. She starts to feel nervous and panicky. Maybe it will turn out that Max is just like most other men she has encountered and he will force her to do things she doesn’t want to.

 

But then she remembers how she felt the night before, and how Max had stopped himself from kissing her in the first place and she knows this will be different. She knows he wouldn’t do anything like that. She’s shocked at her trust in this Wasteland man.

 

When she arrives in her room Max is already there, sitting on the edge of the bed. When she enters he looks up at her and the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile. That is certainly a look she could get used to, she thinks. He stands and as usual helps her with the straps of her prosthesis, but tonight she can definitely feel a shift in the energy between them. Once her arm is off, he guides her to the bed, and she’s mentally preparing herself for what is about to come, but then all he does is turn her around and begin to massage her shoulders and her half arm where its stiff. She feels herself getting sleepier by the second and before long she’s just leaning against him, feeling is steady calm breaths against her back. She realises she’s falling asleep and makes to move, half expecting him to stop her, but all he does is move with her, so they’re lying like normal, facing each other. Except this time, before they sleep, he presses three gentle kisses upon her; first her palm, then her forehead, and then her lips, and then they both drift off peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get more exciting and dangerous from here on in!  
> Also please bear with me on chapter updates, uni is starting to get a bit hectic and I'm running out of already written material to post! Thanks everyone! Happy reading!
> 
> Also let me know-do you think mature is an ok rating for this at the moment?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Furiosa go on a patrol.

This starts out a new pattern. Each night when the two of them make it to their room, she takes off her prosthetic and he massages her aching shoulder. They kiss lazily, and she strokes small circles over his body. Furiosa’s favourite thing is when he takes off his shirt and she can make these small circles on his flesh, and can run his hands over his chest. She likes how it makes him fall asleep quicker.

Ever since he’d had the nightmare that had caused him to pin her down, Furiosa has taken it upon herself to try and help Max. She knows she won’t ever be able to stop them completely but she does her best to get him to relax, and at least fall asleep properly. But with all her efforts she still finds herself waking often to the sharp intake of breath, or the feeling of movement beside her. She is starting to get frustrated, because even now they seem to be getting worse, and the bags under his eyes seem to be getting bigger each day. But she doesn’t know what else to do.

 

She can tell that he wants to leave, his head constantly scanning the horizon, hands twitching when he does. But she also knows he won’t do it now. She knows he will feel too guilty to leave her. So she does what she thinks will help, and gets him working on patrols, so at least he can leave the towers.

 

It starts out like any of the other patrols they have been doing in the past week. Max and Furiosa working together in a perfect team. She kicks herself for not realising it sooner, not seeing how off Max was. How could she not notice the way he was palming at his ears, twitching, swivelling his head more than normal.

 

They’re just doing their job when Max, the one who is driving, lets out a strangled yelp and violently swerves the car. It comes to a stop in a spray of sand and Max just sits in the seat looking ragged, breathing hard.

Furiosa reaches out her flesh hand and puts it on his shoulder and tries not to feel hurt when he flinches away.

 

“Hey. Hey, it’s ok, breathe through it. Max? Are you here? Are you with me?”

 

He turns to look at her, and thankfully he looks lucid, but Furiosa feels like she’s been punched in the stomach when she sees how haunted he looks, face drawn in. He looks lost. She pushes her head to his and she can almost feel his rising panic. In one quick motion he pulls away, wrenches the car door open and stalks off, leaving Furiosa behind in the car.

 

She watches as he struggles up a nearby sand dune and almost collapses when he reaches the top, resting his elbows on his knees and head in his hands. This was how he looked when she found him in the gardens that first time, but now she doesn’t know whether to go over to him. She suddenly feels unsure of herself. If he wanted her company wouldn’t he have stayed here? She waits in the car for a few minutes but then decides she can’t just sit around, she has to do something.

 

Furiosa gets out of the car, and walks over to where he is sitting, purposefully making her footsteps loud enough so she won’t startle him. She sits down next to him, can hear he’s still breathing hard. She knows the kind of look she’ll get if she asks if he’s ok, clearly he’s not, so all she does is offer her hand for him to take, palm up.

She feels a wave of relief when he does, his fingers threaded through hers.

They sit like this for some time, and eventually he seems to calm down enough that she thinks he’ll talk.

“What happened back there?” She asks softly.

He lets out a big sigh, takes a long look across the horizon, and she sees his mouth move, trying to form words that won’t come out.

“I don’t know what’s happening. It’s getting worse.” He stops there and she doesn’t push him further, knows he will tell her when he can.

They sit there for a long while, just watching and breathing. She doesn’t relax until his breathing slows to a normal pace. Eventually Furiosa has to get up, her legs are beginning to go numb underneath her. She makes her way back to the patrol car and stretches, then leans against it and waits for Max; she knows he won’t be far behind.

“Ready to finish this and go back?” She asks as he approaches.

He doesn’t say anything but nods and hops back into the car, and Furiosa goes to the passenger seat, thinking that all she wants now is to get back to the Citadel and forget about this.

 

The car doesn’t start.

It makes a groaning noise, like its trying its absolute hardest to get going but just can’t find the energy. They check their levels of guzz; they have more than enough, so it must be something else. Max gets out of the car to check the engine when he freezes.

“Furiosa…there are extra footprints here”. He slowly turns around and gets back into the car, eyes frantically searching the horizon. She draws in a sharp breath when she realises what he means. Someone must have come and sabotaged their car when they were looking away, when they were on the dunes. She’s surprised that neither she nor Max heard anything, but then she thinks about how intently she was listening to him breathe, and how panicked he had been.

Then she is shocked further when she thinks about the fact that they still have all their guzz; most scavengers would have just taken the guzz, and anything important from the car. The fact that its all still here can only mean-

 

“Shit shit shit, look over there, someone is coming.” Max says.

Furiosa looks to her left and sees four cars speeding their way. She honestly cannot think of a way out of this; they could try and run but she knows they wouldn’t get far on foot, they could try and overpower these people but they are so clearly outnumbered.

She does what she knows and grabs a gun, checks the chamber, and steadies herself, aiming towards the oncoming cars. She notices Max doing the same. Furiosa waits for them to come closer before she shoots. Luckily for them, these cars don’t have windscreens, so she is able to shoot one driver, before moving on to a passenger.

She feels momentarily successful, that is, until their surrounded by the three other cars, all turned away carefully to avoid bullets. Max and Furiosa hunch down into their car, in their best attempt to avoid the onslaught of bullets now coming their way. They both try and shoot back but they can barely move without fear of being shot themselves. Furiosa receives a graze to her human shoulder, and she hears Max grunt, so she knows he has also been hit; she just hopes it isn’t serious. She quickly grabs a knife and hides it under her pants, in a way that is hard for other people to find.

The people have gotten out of their cars now, more people than she could have imagined fitting into the small vehicles. They edge closer, still continuously shooting. They must have a ridiculous amount of ammo, she thinks. Before long both Max and Furiosa are grabbed roughly, neither of them had been able to even see out of their windows, to see how close these scavs were. They’re pulled out of their car, and a gun is placed against her head. She squirms under the hands that hold her, a new wave of panic rising up inside her body like bile.

She looks up and sees she’s been brought to a specific man. He is tall, is missing most of his teeth, and looks cruel.

“Well, well. What do we have here? It looks like I just captured myself the bright and shiny leader of the Citadel! Oh look!” He turns to Max, “Her very own Road Warrior is here too! How fantastic!” The man looks manic with his glee. Furiosa wonders where he’s from, and tries very hard not to spit in his face.

She and Max are shoved into different cars, hands tied (in her case, her prosthetic is bound behind her to her human hand). She notes that they discussed the choice to place them separately, and it makes her feel…almost triumphant; that they must think that Max and Furiosa together are a threat.

 

She can’t see anything in the position she’s in, and she loses all concepts of time in the drive to their captors home. She has been in this position before, over 7000 days ago, and she starts to panic, finds that she can’t breathe. But then she remembers that Max is in a car right by hers and she finds she can breathe a little better.

 -----------------------------

This was all his fault. _Of course_ it was his fault! If Max hadn’t been so ruined inside…if he had never returned to the Citadel…if he had never _stayed_ at the Citadel. If he’d never let her trust him, they wouldn’t be in this position.

It had been a bad night and an even worse day. His ghosts were _screeching_ in his head, watching him from the dark corners of the room he slept in, eyes filled with burning hatred and disappointment.

It was like the time he had been turned away from the Citadel, he was driving, his ghosts were getting louder and then out of nowhere there they all were. They had looked so _real_. But this time, a new person had joined his group of ghosts; Furiosa was there, looking pale, her face swollen, her breathing laboured. He didn’t understand this new development and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. His instinct had kicked in when he saw them there and he had swerved violently before coming to a stop. When Furiosa had pushed her head against his, he just couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear this trust when clearly all he brings to her is death, destruction and disappointment. He’d had to leave the car, trying not to think about how hurt her face would look when he left.

He guesses he had been too focussed on himself that he hadn’t heard anyone approaching the car. He is kicking himself for leaving it in the first place.

Now, bound and separated, he knows he will do anything to stop them from harming her. She doesn’t deserve this. Not like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a cliffhanger for you! Not to worry though-the next chapter should be out in a few days! Happy reading :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find Max's weak spot.

They are driven for at least an hour, Max guesses. He feels incredibly disoriented though, he can’t see anything, can’t make out any shapes with his head under a dark hood they roughly shoved over his head. The fact that he doesn’t know what direction their driving in makes him panic in a new and different way. He tries to listen to what their captors are saying but the hood muffles his hearing.

 

Eventually they slow to a stop and Max is pulled out of the car, legs scrambling underneath him as they drag him somewhere. The hood is pulled off and at first he can’t see anything, but soon his vision gets used to the sharp light and he swivels his head quickly, trying to work out where Furiosa is, and where they have been taken. He finds her not far away, being dragged in a similar fashion. Their eyes meet and Max can tell they both feel relieved to see the other still breathing.

 

They are dragged a bit further, and Max can’t stop himself from lashing out. Feeling so helpless and controlled was never something he was good at taking. He flails his body, hoping they’ll drop him but their hands grip his clothes and his body like vices, and he can’t escape. They reach a door that is the opening to a set of stairs which go down underground, and Max’s panic rises up in desperation. He had been trapped in tunnels before, chased by living skeletons as his ghosts had yelled at him to STOP-

 

“Stop! Max just stop.” Furiosa’s voice cuts into his panic like a knife. He must have been hyperventilating. He looks at her and remembers that its his fault that they’re here in the first place and he has to try and be strong. Not be strong for her necessarily, she can handle herself, but to be strong enough to stop her from having to handle herself in the first place.

 

They enter the tunnels and Max forces his breathing to remain steady. They enter a long corridor that has cells off either side, and he and Furiosa are unceremoniously thrown into two adjacent ones. The walls are thin enough that they can hear each other through them. Max pushes his forehead against the wall, trying to gain some stability and he can hear her breathing and knows she is doing the same.

 

Three men followed him into the cell and they crowd over him now, staring, and he stares back. He is on his knees on the floor, hands tied behind his back but he refuses to look away from them. He hopes he looks intimidating. He certainly doesn’t feel it.

 

“Right. From what we’ve heard from the Citadel, you and Furiosa seem to be well acquainted.” The cruellest looking one watches him eagerly as he speaks. “I would assume then, that she would trust you enough to tell you the Citadel’s secrets. I want you to tell _me_ these secrets. How can I get in? How can I stop the Wives? How can I remove the Wretched from the Citadel’s walls? Oh I know it’s been a long time since everything changed, but I was just sitting back and waiting. I still mean to take the Citadel.”

Max is confused. This man is clearly the leader of the place they’re in, but Max still doesn’t understand. Where are they?

Then it hits him. He looks at the uniforms of the men more closely, and notes the ammo hanging over their chests, and remembers the ridiculous amount of bullets used to capture Furiosa and himself. He is clearly an idiot because they have clearly been taken to the Bullet Farm.

 

Then suddenly they’re on him. No warning, not that he expected any. They must have decided he wasn’t going to talk. He doesn’t know why they interrogated him over Furiosa. He guesses they must have either seen what happened on the patrol, or decided he would be easier to break. Whatever their reasons, he is thankful that she is being left alone…for now at least.

 

He tries to stay on his knees, but then a solid kick hits him in the kidneys and he doubles over. They push him down with their fists and feet and then he is curling in on himself like a bug. The blows rain down and every inch of him feels raw. His face is bleeding, he can tell by the wetness he feels under his cheek. He grits his teeth, trying not to make a noise.

 

He hears one of them notice his knee brace, and then soon enough their kicks are aimed there. It’s not completely unbearable, but its more pain than he’s felt in a long while. That is, until they remove the brace and get in closer to his knee. One sharp kick in exactly the wrong spot and Max distantly hears himself _screaming_. His vision is fuzzy. Blackness appearing around the edges.

 

Far away he can hear someone yelling for them to stop, yelling that they’re killing him. In this moment part of him thinks maybe that’s ok. If that would stop all this pain then maybe that’s what should happen. But then he realises that the person yelling is Furiosa. Oh. He’d almost forgotten she was here…he needs to hold it together for her. He needs to make sure he stays awake and alert to stop them harming her. He doesn’t know if he can do it. He gets a punch to the back of his head.

 

Another kick in the wrong place on his knee.

 

He passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

Furiosa can hear him scream and it feels like she is experiencing his pain too. Every grunt, every whimper and she feels like she’s been hit in the stomach, air pushed from her lungs. She can’t stop herself from yelling. What will she do if they kill him? They sound like they’re killing him!

 

Why didn’t they choose her? She was the one who knew what they wanted. He could have been left alone. She wonders if Max has worked out where they are yet. She knew as soon as they had pulled the hood off her head. She’d been to the Bullet Farm before.

 

She was trying to remember the layout of the place when he had started to panic, started to thrash wildly. She could hear his shallow breath…could see the terror in his eyes. She couldn’t let him panic here. She needed him with her. In this state of mind they would never be able to escape. Not for the first time she wonders what will happen if they can’t. She assumes they will be beaten to death, or taken in front of a firing squad…this was the Bullet Farm after all. She hopes beyond anything that those back at the Citadel will think to search here when they realise that Max and Furiosa aren’t coming back.

 

Max screams again and she holds her breath, listening intently; as much as she doesn’t want to hear him being treated so terribly, she couldn’t bear the thought that she would miss his last breath. If he was going to die she wanted to be there, but in this situation it looked like the best she was going to get was to listen to him.

 

Eventually the screams turn into mangled groans, and then stop all together. She holds her own breath as she waits for his, and lets it out when she hears it rattle out of his chest. This seems to go on for an eternity, and all she can hear now, aside from Max’s shallow breaths is the sounds of them punching and kicking. Then she hears the unmistakable sound of a knife being sharpened and she has a feeling she knows what they’re about to do. She has to stop listening.

 

But even away from the thin wall she hears what comes next; footsteps coming down the hall, a quick, excited breath. 

 

“Hey guys! Guys come quick! There’s a massive brawl happening in the square! Tursk against Sticks! They’re gonna kill each other! Quick!”

She hears the men exclaim excitedly and rush out of the cell, their footsteps clattering on the stone as they leave. She isn’t sure, but Furiosa doesn’t think she heard them lock Max’s door. But how will that help her get to him? She can’t get out of her own cell.

 

That’s when she remembers the knife hidden away against her leg. She tries to stand up…maybe she can jimmy the lock…it looks pretty flimsy. Hey, even the walls here are pretty flimsy, she could probably push through. She tries the lock option first; she figures it will be less noisy and thus less likely to draw attention. Firstly though she cuts through the cord that was binding her arm and her prosthetic behind her back. She’s taking too long but she has no choice. Finally it cuts through.

 

She can’t hear any guards to she sticks the knifepoint into the lock and wiggles it around. She’s done this before, and it had worked, so she hopes she can do it again.

 

A few minutes go by, and Furiosa thinks she could have finished it sooner, but she keeps stopping to listen against her wall for Max’s breath.

 

Finally, _finally,_ the lock comes undone, and she very slowly and cautiously opens the door, pokes her head around to Max’s cell and nearly falls over in happiness; the door is wide open. She guesses they were either too excited to see the fight, or they thought an unconscious man wasn’t a flight risk.

 

She can't hold back a gasp when she sees him. He’s a bloody swollen mess and she can barely recognise his face. There are long cuts down his arms and she can see blood on his shirt, seeping through from his stomach. She moves over to him and he groans when she rolls him onto his side, quickly checks his stomach and breaths a small sigh of relief; it wasn’t a stab wound, just a cut.

He has started to breathe harshly, and she loathes doing it but she needs him to wake up, so she taps him gently on the least sore looking part of his face.

 

“Hey, hey? Are you here?” She speaks quietly; if he got hit in the head and has a concussion, he’ll likely be sensitive to sound.

 

Relief courses through her when he opens his eyes a crack.

“Hey.” He croaks, and he closes his eyes again.

 

“No, no. Max, hey. Look at me. Can you do that? Please look.” She’s almost speaking nonsense now but she needs him awake. She needs him to somehow become a functioning human again so they can try to leave. They don’t have much time, surely the fight will be over soon, and then their captors will be back. She has a plan in mind now, but she needs him to at least be able to walk.

 

Furisoa sits him up gently and his face goes pale. She’s beginning to panic now. They need to leave.

 

“Hey hey, okay, I know it’s hard right now but I need you to stand up for me? Is that okay? Can you please try?”

He looks at her like he wants to push her over and lie back down, but she knows he won’t.

 

With her help they get him into a standing position, but it makes her want to cry. He’s huddled in on himself; keeping all his weight on one leg…she can guess what had made him scream. She hurriedly picks up his knee brace and places it on him, and he at least seems to be able to put some weight on his leg after that.

 

They slowly make their way to the small garage Furiosa has in mind. Once, when she was here on a supply run before Fury Road, her arm had malfunctioned and they had lead her too this smaller garage which was for fixing bikes and other small vehicles. She hopes there’s no one there now, like last time.

 

Their luck seems to be improving; the garage is empty of people and there is a sturdy looking bike parked in the corner. She sits Max down on a bench, which elicits a low groan, and a hand over his stomach. She takes a quick look over the bike and thankfully it seems to be in working order, must have just been repaired. It even has a full tank of guzz.

 

Furiosa gets Max up again and they begin to wheel the bike out of the garage. Her head is swivelling in every direction, looking for anyone who might spot them. She hadn’t seen any guns in the garage unfortunately, and she feels naked without their protection. Furiosa wishes they could just get on the bike and go, but she knows it’s too noisy, and that it’s probably smarter to walk it further away. They exit out of a side entrance which she knows doesn’t have any guards. They have to walk low behind a sand dune to make sure they’re hidden from the main entrance. She wants to walk further but she doesn’t think Max can continue like this, at least on the bike he wouldn’t have to put pressure on is knee.

 

“Alright Max now I need you to hop on this bike. You sit in the front. Great, just like that, ok.” She’s aware that she sounds like a mother talking to a child but right now she doesn’t think he can process much more.

 

They get on, she starts up the bike, and thanks her lucky stars that this is what she grew up riding. She doesn’t think she could manage the dead weight of Max in front of her without her skill.

 

They ride for hours, her head constantly turning behind her to check for pursuers; but for once they have been lucky, and it looks like they made it out without alerting anybody.

 

Her biggest battle now is Max. He keeps drifting in and out of consciousness and Furiosa is beside herself with worry. She can see the Citadel on the horizon but it never looks like its getting closer.

 

She feels her heart in her chest when she sees the dust plume ahead of her, coming towards them with speed. When they are close enough she lets out a breath of relief; it is a Citadel vehicle, and she notes happily its one of the fastest they’ve got.

 

They reach each other and Furiosa is already off the bike, supporting Max’s limp body, Toast running up to her, looking concerned.

 

“No time to explain, I’m fine. Toast I’m _fine!_ Help me get Max we need to get back NOW.”


	11. Chapter 11

Furiosa half carries, half pushes Max into the back of the truck that Toast had driven out, bike quickly forgotten. They lie him down on the bench and she rests his head on her leg. His eyes are shut but he groans softly with each bump they drive over. She’s panicking now. What if he’s hurt too badly and they can’t fix him? They have no more bloodbags and there just seems to be so much blood everywhere. On his shirt on his arms on his face on his nose-

 

“Furiosa! HEY! Its ok! We’re nearly there.” She knows Toast’s words are meant to be comforting, but she can only dimly hear them, as if she was in a tunnel. Instead she focuses on Max, her human fingers in his hair, just gently stroking. The movement calms her more than him; she guesses he doesn’t even notice she’s doing it.

 

Before long they reach the Citadel and Furiosa feels like Toast is doing everything too slowly. There’s no time to park the truck, there’s no time to explain. She scrambles out of the car (after gently placing Max’s head on the seat), and shouts at a group of pups standing nearby to get a stretcher to take him to the infirmary. But it’s too slow. Everyone is too slow. She’s about to shout again when Cheedo appears in front of her.

 

“Calm down. Come on. Just calm. I’m here now, let me look at him.” She’s using that voice, the one that is meant to calm but really just aggravates her further, but she knows Cheedo is here to help and she leads him to Max.

Cheedo mutters to herself quietly while she looks over him, as if making a mental checklist, cataloguing each injury. She hears things like ‘bruised kidneys’ and ‘lacerations’ and suddenly it’s all too much and there’s no one to stop Furiosa as she staggers away, breathing heavy.

 

She somehow finds her way to her room and collapses face first into her bed. She finally manages to calm down somewhat, telling herself that he’ll be fine, that they will look after him in the infirmary.

Its not until she rolls over and catches a glimpse of Max’s other shirt, which then makes her think about him without a shirt, which then makes her think about his back, and what is written on his back, that she realises the infirmary is actually the old Bloodshed. The place where Max was chained and muzzled and strung up like a piece of meat. She knows what his nightmares are about now, and she knows what will happen if he wakes up and he sees the room, realises where he is.

 

Furiosa drags herself out of the bed and makes her way to the infirmary. Luckily the worst part is over, she didn’t think she could have coped seeing them stitch his stomach and arms. Now they are just cleaning him up, and before she realises what she’s doing she has a rag in her hands and is gently wiping it across his face.

 

“Have you looked at his knee?” She quietly asks Cheedo.

“Yeah, but there was no new damage, its just inflamed now.” Furiosa feels relieved; she thinks Max wouldn’t take too kindly to walking around on a crutch.

 

He makes a whimpering sound when she wipes over his swollen eye, and thinks to herself he looks much like she probably did after the Fury Road.

 

As she’s watching, the other eye cracks open, and darts around the room. For a second it is filled with pure terror, until it finds her face and she can see his body visibly relax.

 

“Hey, hey. It’s ok. Get some rest.” She wonders how many times will she say this to him.

 

He doesn’t close his eye though, and looks her up and down intently, and she can tell exactly what he’s thinking.

 

“I’m ok. I’m not hurt. Don’t worry about me.”

 

Max looks her in the eye again, and mumbles a small ‘thank you’ and promptly falls asleep.

 

Once he’s settled she asks Cheedo and some of the other infirmary workers to help her carry him to her room. She knows that it is probably a stupid idea, but Furiosa doesn’t like being in this room as much as he does, and the thought of sitting by his side here while he recovers is almost repulsive. They help her, grumbling a little as they do. When Max is in her bed, for once looking somewhat peaceful as he sleeps, she feels she can finally, almost relax.

 

Furiosa takes off her arm, rubbing at where it chafed, and positions herself on the other side of the bed, half sitting up. From this angle she can see the steady rise and fall to his chest, and before she realises it, she is waking up. She hadn’t meant to sleep, but she probably needed it.

She looks to Max and he is right in the middle of a nightmare, thrashing around, breathing hard. So that's why she woke up. She starts to worry again, until the nightmare seems to end and he goes limp in the bed again. Furiosa almost falls back to sleep immediately, but then remembers that he has stitches in his stomach, which have now probably been pulled.

 

As she’s lifting up his shirt to check the bandage for blood (which, thankfully, there is none), his hand grasps hers. She looks to his face and sees him awake, looking scared and hurt and then suddenly she bursts into tears, completely shocking the both of them.

 

She lies back down in the bed, wanting to just fall asleep and get over this ridiculousness; he’s the one that’s hurt, not her! But as she does his arms come up around her and pull her close to his chest. If anyone else had held her like this she would have them pinned in seconds, but with Max, it just feels soothing.

 

He takes one hand and smooths it over her head, back and forth in a slow motion as he sobs into his chest, making a damp patch on his shirt. She never cries like this and she doesn’t understand why it’s happening now. She didn’t cry like this when her mother died, or when she found out about the Green Place. She’d screamed then, because crying had seemed futile, but screaming had at least _felt_ like something more.

 

Then it hits her that she doesn’t truly trust anyone else...not like this, anyway. Furiosa feels like she could almost survive if he left, but she knows she’d never feel safe like the way she does when he’s by her side. She can handle herself, but it’s nice to know that she will have help if he’s around. She doesn’t want to feel like this. She’s always made it through on her own. She hasn’t needed anyone else. But, a small voice inside her thinks, maybe it is nice to need and its nice to be needed.

 

Eventually she stops crying, but his hand doesn’t stop moving, his arms stay wrapped around her, such a fragile hold for such a hard man. He doesn’t need to say anything because she knows exactly what he is trying to tell her anyway; ‘I’m still here. Don’t worry about me. I’m safe now’. She falls asleep like that, finding comfort in his careful embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you are enjoying this fic! I won't be able to update for probably the next 5 days but its definitely not finished yet! Happy reading :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much angst.

He stays in bed for 2 days, and he knows it should be longer but he can’t sit around anymore. He’s sore and bruised and stitched but he feels like he’s losing himself even more.

 

He is starting to feel bad again. His ghosts are crowding him in new ways, never leaving his side, yelling at him in a never-ending stream of voices;

_MAX_

_HELP US MAX_

_WHY DIDN’T YOU HELP US?_

_WHERE ARE YOU?_

_YOU FAILED US!_

_MAX!_

He isn’t sure what has changed but suddenly everything is too much. The people in the Citadel care about him too much. He had comforted Furiosa when she had sobbed raggedly into his chest, but now he felt like a pressure was building up in his chest, in his head, his whole body, and that if he didn’t get out soon he would explode with the feeling.

 

Max can tell she knows. She watches him when she thinks he can’t see. She has started bringing up extra water and rations to keep in her room, but he knows they’re there for him to take when he goes. This makes it worse. The fact that she’s seemingly accepting this is tearing him apart. Especially since he has realised how much she trusts him and needs him. He is a creature who can’t be needed. As soon as he’s needed everything gets ruined. He bears his wounds from the Bullet Farm silently and stoically because he knows it’s his fault they were captured in the first place. He’s just thankful that Furiosa wasn’t hurt.

 

He waits until his wounds seem somewhat healed, and his leg stops constantly screaming in pain. He tries to leave silently, in the middle of the night, but as soon as he’s out of the bed she’s awake. Her face looks sad but accepting. He wishes she would look away.

 

“Take all the water and food over there, and go by the kitchen if you think you need anymore. There should be a full tank of guzz in the car you had just finished before we started patrols. I made sure.” She says this quietly, as if she doesn’t want to disturb him.

 

He looks at her hopelessly, and she stares back, her face open and earnest. How can he leave someone who looks at him like this, who trusts him like this, who knows him like this. But then he remembers those are all the reasons he’s leaving.

 

He can only manage one word, his voice croaking, pleading; “Please.”

 

She looks at him for a long moment, and then nods her head. Max walks over to her, and picks up her hand, and places a feather-soft kiss on her palm, then her forehead, and then her lips, and then quickly turns and leaves the room, supplies in his hands. He doesn’t look back.

\---------------------------------

She had known it was coming. It was, after all, the reason she had taken him on a patrol in the first place. She had just hoped she would have a little more time before it did.

 

As soon as he got out of bed she woke, immediately waking up; she hadn’t had a proper deep sleep since he’d been injured.

 

She wanted to try and stop him, but she knew he wouldn’t change his mind now.

 

His face when he had uttered “please” ripped her to shreds inside. Haunted and sad and scared and guilty all at once. She couldn’t help but nod; maybe that would at least take the guilt out of the equation.

 

She didn’t know when… _if_ he’d be back, but she hoped it would be soon.

 

Having to explain to the girls the next morning was honestly one of the most difficult things Furiosa had ever done. Of course Max had left before, but that was only for a short time, and he’d only been in the Citadel for a short time. This time around, he’d been here for weeks, and even Furiosa herself had realised she had an inkling of hope that he would stay, and if she had an inkling, the girls would be certain in their belief in Max. It also didn’t help that this time it didn’t look like he was going to come back at all.

 

They don’t take it well. Toast and Dag, of course, are immediately angry, and they tell Furiosa to forget that he even existed; how dare he come and let them love him and then abandon them.

 

Cheedo, the youngest, tears up, and abruptly leaves the room, muttering about patients and things to do.

 

Capable is, as always, the calm one. Her face is a mask, but not a thick enough mask that Furiosa can’t see the disappointment underneath.

 

Furiosa feels as though each of the girls are showing an emotion she is hiding; of course she’s angry, but like Capable, she’s also disappointed but understanding. But then of course all she wants to do now is be like Cheedo and cry and wail and wish he was back. None of these emotions, however, are productive. She tells herself to get a grip, and she buries herself in work, relishes in the pain and tiredness she feels in her muscles at the end of each day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone hope you liked this chapter! I have a few more chapters to go and then I'll be wrapping this fic up!


	13. Chapter 13

He drives and drives and drives and drives and eventually each day melds into one. Each day he wakes, eats, drinks, pisses, drives, and each day he tries to ignore his ghosts as they yell at him for leaving. And each day he tries not to think about what he’s left behind, and _who_ he’s left behind. The horizon always beckons. He begins to think maybe he’s driven far enough to reach it.

 

He only stops when he’s in desperate need of something; food, water, guzz, car parts. He doesn’t like to stop often. As soon as he stops moving, it seems as though the voices get louder, reaching new heights. It’s worst when he attempts sleep. He dreams of hands slowly pulling him apart or people long dead calling out for him from the shadows. Sometimes he dreams of the Sisters; they blame him for the death of Angharad and shove a dead and mangled baby into his face. But most often he dreams of Furiosa. He dreams that when he holds her body she crumbles away, turned into dust being swept along in the harsh winds of the Wasteland. He dreams that his hands burn her sides when he touches her, or that he breaks her bones. She never says anything in these dreams, but her face looks like it did when he left; sad and disappointed but also accepting and patient. That look will be with him forever.

 

Before long his beard and hair are longer than they have been in a while, and he hasn’t spoken out loud in what feels like an eternity. He starts to get restless. Even the Wastes can’t stop him feeling like this anymore. He needs a goal, an aim, anything to distract him from the dead that trail along in his wake.

 

He almost doesn’t realise what he’s doing. He starts to go to trading villages when he isn’t desperate. He starts to look for specific things. He doesn’t face the fact that these things he is finding are for specific people. He doesn’t face the fact that the gauze and bandages he has just acquired are for Cheedo, or that the seeds and watering devices are for Dag. He doesn’t face the fact that he looks for specific parts for Furiosa’s arm. He tells himself they’re for his own brace. It isn’t until the towers of the Citadel begin to peek over the horizon that he has to make a decision.

 

Max stops his car where he thinks he is just out of range of those on watch; he doesn’t want to make them think he’s coming back if he changes his mind. He also can’t bring himself to get any closer either. What if something terrible happened since he’s been gone? He doesn’t know how long it’s been but he knows it has been longer than any time before. What if they don’t want to see him? He almost couldn’t bear that. He realises that he left because he shouldn’t be trusted but he also realises that being with those in the Citadel made him more comfortable than he had been in years. He drives a bit closer. He thinks maybe now they will be able to see him. He can’t make himself drive the extra distance. After all this time driving he finds that right now he can’t put his foot down on the pedal.

 

Before he knows it he sees a small figure approaching on a bike. He knows immediately who it is; the metal arm is a giveaway. He sags back into his chair in relief; if Furiosa is coming out to meet him, all must still be well inside the Citadel. He watches as she gets closer and there is a large part of Max that wants to turn away. He knows that she’s ok and that everything fine and he feels like the Wasteland is already calling again. But then she gets closer and he sees her face, hidden somewhat behind the goggles, but he can still see her smirking, he can still see that dimple sticking into her cheek.

 

When she pulls up he almost falls out of the car, staggering over to her, the need to hold her in his arms and check she’s ok is overwhelming. They collide into each other, and he breathes out harshly. He hasn’t touched another person since he left.

 

They stand like that for a time; his arms enveloping her, her head tucked down under his, resting her forehead on his chest. When she finally looks up she places her head against his, and before she moves away he leans in and plants a soft kiss on her lips.

 

He can’t get any words out but he wants to explain to her what he’s been doing. Wants to show her his gifts. But explanations get stuck in his throat as he stands, feeling her alive under his hands. He revels in the quiet; his ghosts have stepped away for the moment, and there are no sounds other than their breathing.

 

“I thought you might have died,” Her voice sounds ragged when she says it. He finds her eyes and sees a haunted and scared face looking back to his.

“I would never know. If you had died. I wouldn’t know.” He knows what she is asking. As usual they communicate on a completely different level. She wants to know if he will stay. He thinks he might.

 

“Come on. Lets get back. They’ll be wondering where you are.” Its all the answer she needs, and her face relaxes slightly before she hops back on her bike.

 

He gets back into his car; eyes quickly scanning inside to check everything he’s brought is still there. When he looks up again Furiosa is already riding away, back towards The Citadel.

\--------------------------------------- 

He was gone for over a year, 387 days. At first she would ask for a report from the people in the watchtowers, but after days and days of nothing she stopped asking. After a few months people stopped mentioning Max altogether. If someone did say his name, or talk about his absence, it was quickly hushed up with looks and topic changes.

 

It wasn’t until one day someone mentioned a crash they’d seen on a patrol not far from the Citadel. She was immediately reassured it wasn’t the car he’d taken, and that the body hadn’t been his, but after that it was all she could picture when she thought of him. Her nights were now filled with images of his broken and bloody body, of her reaching him too late to help.

 

She’d just about abandoned all hope, remembering his words at the salt all that time ago. She thought she probably was insane already though.

 

When a pup had come running to her to tell her about the car on waiting on the horizon she had known. As soon as she’d seen the car she’d raced down to the garages, picked the fasted bike she had, and was off.

 

He didn’t look like himself; too much hair and far too thin, but she knew it was him as soon as he stepped out of the car. He looked at her like he was on fire and she was the only water around.

 

She feels relief in every pore when they hug, clinging to each other. It feels like a lifetime before she looks into his face properly. He looks…well, awful. He is far too thin, and she can tell from the bags under his eyes that he hasn’t had a proper sleep since he left.

 

She knows he understands what she is asking him when she says it; “I thought you might have died,” means ‘please don’t make me go through this again. Please don’t leave like this again.’ And she knows when he says “Come on. Lets get back. They’ll be wondering where you are,” means that he’ll be right behind her when she turns back.


	14. Chapter 14

 

Max surprises her when they arrive back at the Citadel; when he gets out of the car he immediately turns around and pulls out all sorts of objects, which he hands to Furiosa. First it is gauze, bandages, needles and thread, and he tells her it is all for Cheedo. Next it’s a stack of paper that he says is for Capable (she assumes it is paper she can use in the school she created for the pups). Then it is a bag of seeds and what looks like a watering device, for Dag. An actually intact leather jacket follows this, which is an absolute treasure in the Wasteland. Furiosa is confused, because Max never wants to part with his, and this one is far too small for him, but then he explains it is for Toast to wear when she goes out on patrols. Lastly he comes out with a bag that he thrusts into her now full arms.

 

“Parts. To improve your arm.” She is so touched by this; her arm was never as good as the one she lost on Fury Road, but maybe with all of this she could make it better. She wonders if this is why he was gone so long; he couldn’t have found this all in one place.

 

“Is this what you were doing while you were gone?”

 

“Hm. Mostly. Not at the start. Uh…it wasn’t planned.” She understands. Motions her head for him to follow her as she distributes the gifts. The girls are ecstatic that Max is back, and also about what he has brought. Toast is almost wary at first, as though she wants to be angry but doesn’t quite feel that way anymore, but when she sees the jacket she loses her composure and Furiosa can tell she is happy too.

 

By the time they get back to her room, it is already dark, and someone has brought dinner up for them. She places the bag of parts down on her workbench, itching to get started. But she thinks she can at least wait until tomorrow, right now she wants to give Max her full attention. They eat in a comfortable silence, and Furiosa tries to give some of her food to him, but he refuses.

“Come on, just take it. I probably eat too much anyway, and you look like a breeze could push you over.” He scowls at that, but takes the food anyway.

 

She is about to ready herself for bed when she realises he should probably shave and wash, he looks like he hasn’t had a drop of water on his face since he left. All she wants to do right now is lie down next to him and sleep, but she understands that that probably isn’t the best idea. She leads him to the small washroom; most people in the Citadel seem to think this washroom is only for Furiosa and the Sisters, even though she tells them everyone can use it. But right now she is glad for that because she knows it will be empty.

 

She doesn’t sit and watch him as he washes. Maybe he would have been ok with that before he left, but she thinks that all that time in the Wasteland has probably made him a little bit feral again. She sits outside, and before long he finds her there, looking clean and pink, though he hasn’t shaved yet.

 

“I can’t do it.” She’s confused until she looks at his hands, which are shaking so badly he can barely hold the blade.

 

Her hands come over his gently, “that’s ok. Come back to the room and I can do it for you.” She has shaved her head too many times to count. She knows how to do it.

 

Back in her room she positions him on the side of the bed, so that he is at the right height. She starts with his face, carefully trying not to cut him. Then she moves onto his mop of hair. She uses scissors here, chopping off random chunks until she gets close enough to actually cut it properly. Max closes his eyes at some point, and she wants too as well, the repetitive snickt, snickt of the scissors through his hair is calming. She is finished but she doesn’t want to end this serene moment. Eventually though he opens his eyes, and looks up at her, the corners of his mouth move up slightly, a half smile.

 

She puts leans down and puts her head to his, and they stay like that, breathing each other in.

 

She moves away, she hates to do it but if she wants to lie down she needs to take off her arm. She is pulling at the first buckle when his hands take over. It’s the first time anyone else has even touched the buckles since he left and suddenly she has no strength left. She sags into his body as he undoes them all, he face nuzzled into his chest.

 

The fact that he is actually here, and he is actually ok, and he is actually _alive_ , overwhelms her. She never wants to let him go again.

 

Her arm is off and they move over to the bed, fitting together like puzzle pieces, like he never even left in the first place. She is almost asleep when he speaks,

 

“It isn’t out there.” He doesn’t say anything else, and she is confused, so she looks up to him in the darkness of the room.

“Redemption. It doesn’t exist out there. I…mm…I can’t find it out there.”

 

It suddenly occurs to her that he is still on his quest to find his redemption, and that the gifts today were part of that. She feels stupid for not realising it before, for not remembering.

 

“Maybe you can find it here.” He looks at her sharply, unsure of himself perhaps.

 

He doesn’t speak for a long time, and when he does he sounds lighter almost.

 

“Maybe I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys this is the end! I hope you all enjoyed my very first fanfic! I had originally planned for this to go very differently, I was planning on writing smut but as I was writing it never felt like the right place to put it in. I never felt like they were ready! Anyway I'll definitely be writing more fics now, I have some other ideas so expect some updates soon!  
> <3
> 
> Also I'm on tumblr now! (I've always had a tumblr but I finally got around to creating one for mmfr!)   
> http://wastelandfool.tumblr.com/


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